


What Went Unseen

by Inquisitorkira



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blind Character, Blind Inquisitor Headcannon, Dragon Age Inquisition, F/M, So much angst, self harm mention, seriously if you don't like angst don't read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 22:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3626193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inquisitorkira/pseuds/Inquisitorkira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Dilanya Lavellan had no qualm with her blindness - until Solas gave her sight, and then took it with him. Based on a headcanon I came up with that my inquisitor is blind. LOTS OF ANGST. Like super angst</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Went Unseen

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I have never written a blind character before, and I hope that I don't offend anybody with this headcanon! Also all rights belong to Bioware, and all that jazz. Comments are appreciated!

It was as Dilanya had expected- people were more appalled by her blindness than her pointed ears. Even her inner circle had trouble digesting that they were being led through hell and back by a woman who couldn’t see. She understood. Years of living had made her callous to judgment.  
But Solas was different. He didn’t question her ability to lead, or her advisors’ decision in making her inquisitor, or even how she could aim a bow. He was weary of her at first, but only for her Dalish heritage. He had even complimented her by saying that she was graceful in combat. No one had ever used that word to describe her. He was kind to her, his words sweet like honey. She could tell they were honest words from the tenor of voice, even when it faltered as he searched for a better one, one that rang with more truth. It was intoxicating, Solas’ voice -Soft and loud and wise. Like the wind blowing over a stream. She had imagined that he looked the way he spoke, though she couldn’t picture what that meant exactly in her mind’s eye. Maybe he was large, with locks of dark hair draped over his shoulders. But his hands were always gentle as they tended to her wounds. Perhaps he was lean with dark skin and sad eyes, eyebrows furrowed into a permanent frown. He did seem to be sad. It didn’t matter, she would tell herself as she silenced her imagination. She could never know the answers to her wondering.  
In her dreams she could see. She didn’t think it was the way other people saw- just bursts of flowing colors and shapes, sliding around in all directions. She could see peoples’ voices personified but it would never replace them. It was good enough for her, though. That’s how it had always been. She did not wallow in her blindness. It had never been impairment to her, just something else that separated her from others. One night, she was dreaming deeply. It was an open space she was in, listening to birds, watching the sky fall down like rain. She readied her bow to shoot a particularly loud crow, when everything began to shift. The shapes were solidifying, the colors stilling. She was confused. She tried to will herself awake and then she heard him speak. “Your dreams are quite fascinating.” She paused before turning. Solas was in her dream. How? Had he used magic on her? He knew how she detested magic. She turned to bark at him and instead was stunned to silence. She could see him. She could actually see him. And not in her way, with spinning colors and light, but the way he was meant to be seen. She gasped.  
He wasn’t dark or large or sad or anything like she had thought. He was tall, much taller than her, with shining eyes, dressed in plain shades to contrast the paleness of his skin. The smirk on his lips seemed to fill up his face though it was slight. His cheeks were rosy from the cold- was that snow?- but what took her most by surprise was that he hadn’t hair at all. He was speaking to her, but for the first time in her life she wasn’t listening, only watching. The way he moved- if anything was graceful, it was him. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. She knew it foolish, but she also knew this wasn’t real. If this was real, she wouldn’t be able to see him or know what snow looked like. So she sucked in a breath, and reached for his cheek, marveling at how soft his skin felt against her palm. She had been kissed by men before, but had never been the one to initiate it. How could she when she couldn’t see their lips? But his looked soft and full and she was dying to know how he tasted. She pulled his face down to hers, their lips meeting sloppily. He seemed surprised, anxious even. When he pulled away, she thought he may even be angry but he looked at her with- what? Admiration maybe? She wasn’t sure how to read expressions, but it must have been something good because he leaned in to kiss her again and this time she sighed, taking it in. He tasted just how he sounded, like rain and honey. But all too fast he pulled away and he was gone, everything was gone and she knew she was awake. Her world was back to blackness.  
She had immediately found him in the rotunda after that, yelled at him for using magic on her without her permission but secretly she was grateful. Because now, at least sometimes, she could see and more importantly, she could see him. It became her favorite past time, his visits to her dreams. She began to like it more than when she was awake. She fell in love with him. Without seeing him, maybe she would have fallen in love with him regardless, but this way it happened faster and harder.  
And so she fell hard with his leaving. Her nights were as black as her days. The blackness matched the hurt in her heart. How foolish she had been! He had given her sight, made her whole, and she had clung to the wholeness and in the end it left her so empty. She hated dreaming now. Sometimes she could see him, just little wisps of him, memories blending with shades of grey, and it made it even worse when she awoke. Dilanya wished she had been born a dwarf. She begged Dagna to help her find something to get rid of her dreams. Surely the Arcanist would know of something. She did not. In anger and grief, she had smashed her fist into a mirror- she did not know who had put the blighted thing in her quarters when she had no use for it- leaving her hand cut open and bleeding. She cursed the creators, though she doubted their existence. If they did indeed exist, perhaps old Fen’harel was smiling at her misfortune. Maybe even Mythal too because where was her mercy now when she needed it the most? As her fingers grasped for the broken glass of the mirror and she aimed the shard towards her useless eyes, she thought she heard his voice. Bitter sweet honey mist. She stopped. Solas was only a man. But she was the Inquisitor. She would not be broken like the fragile doll they believed her to be, like the remains of the mirror in her hands. So that day she walked away unmarred.  
Eventually, word got to Morrigan of her troubles and she was able to concoct a potion to rectify her sleep of dreams. It sat on her nightstand for some time before she finally gained the courage to use it. That night, the colors were gone. She couldn’t tell if she missed them. Some day they would come back, and she would need another potion- or maybe by then she would be strong enough to face her own subconscious. She didn’t hear his voice again, and for that she was glad.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________  
Fade travel was taxing. However, Solas had run away before and was prepared to rest whenever necessary. He stopped to gather energy. The veil was still thin in the spot he chose. Like he often did, he found himself thinking of her. No, he could not bear it. She had spat in his face when he had left her and he had surely deserved it. She didn’t care if her Vallasiln was a slave mark, or an offering to the gods, or if it was just another tattoo. She cared about him. And he had betrayed her- worse still, he had taken her sight with him. He was her link to the deeper parts of the fade. Without him, her dreams were empty. He knew all this and still, like a coward, he ran. Frustrated and desperate, he concentrated on the thinnest parts of the fade and, hoping she was asleep, reached for her dreams. The nothingness that greeted him was disturbing, to say the least. He should at least be able to sense her consciousness, yet there was nothing there. Something was cutting her off completely from the fade. Dread consumed him- was she dead? No, she could not be, she was much stronger than that. But it seemed the most logical answer. Anger welled inside him. He couldn’t accept it. He searched again, digging deeper. He even ventured into the consciousness of others around Skyhold. Maybe from them he could see a glimpse of her. But he found nothing in the dreams of his former companions, and if they felt his presence, they did not seem to take notice. Maybe she was not dead. It seemed likely that, if she had died, someone would be missing her. But it had always been him she was closest to. He broke his trance rapidly. Whatever had happened, she was lost to him forever. The most mortal parts of him burned in anguish. He wanted to go back. But what would he say if she wasn’t there? What would he say if she was? He had yet again created a problem not meant to be mended. No, he could not go back. He wandered forward, and did not search for her again.


End file.
